Already she had planned her flight, and calculated the most favourable hour for forcing open the gate of the Bishop's garden.

But already, also, the agony, the grave uneasiness, the torment of a doubt had come back to her.

Were she to yield to evil she would suffer eternal remorse in consequence.

Hours, most abominable hours, passed in this uncertainty as to what part she should take under this tempestuous wind, which constantly threw her from the revolt of her love to the horror of a fault.

And she came out of the contest weakened by each victory over her heart.
One evening, as she was about leaving the house to go to join Felicien, she suddenly thought of her little book from the Society of Aid to Abandoned Children.